Nanny McPhee and the Addison family
by Pixie 137
Summary: A troublesome six year old, an ill seven year old, a deaf nine year old, and twins that are just as bad as each other. A mother that is no longer with them, and a father that is on the brink of a mental break down. Nanny McPhee, we need you!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, Pixie 137 here :) I was watching Nanny McPhee the other day and well, decided to write a fanfic. if you have bothered to click on this then I hope you enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Nanny McPhee. I only own my characters :)**

* * *

 _We start this story, sad to say, with a struggling family. A family that consists of five… delightful, yet unpredictable children, a dog that looks, and acts more like a wild bear, and of course a father that tries his best at keeping his family together after the tragic loss of his dear wife._

 _Mr Jeremy Addison, father of five, owner of Maggie the dog and also the owner of the local bakery down the street, is falling apart as we speak._

Mr Addison had just finished trying to get his children ready for the sixth nanny that he had interviewed. This one seemed to be the most promising, she cooked, she cleaned and she even told stories. Her name was Miss Bishop, and she would be here soon.

"But Papa, do you have to go?!" Frederick the youngest of the five, whined. He tightened his grip around his father's leg.

"Yes, n-now please, Freddie let go. The n-nanny will be here in a moment, and I don't want to… want to, uh." He stammered, trying to peal his son from his leg.

"I don't want a nanny, I want Mama!" He screamed.

Mr Addison got down to the height of the red headed little boy, and placed both of his hands on his son's tiny shoulders. "I do too, but she isn't coming back. She's with the angels n-now."

Frederick's eyes glistened from the tears he was trying to hold back to no avail. His father gave him a sad smile, and wiped the boy's chubby cheeks.

Mr Addison got up from the floor, dusting off his knees.

"Papa?" Frederick sniffled.

"Yes, my boy?"

"Can you make me some cake mix when you come back?" Frederick asked, looking up at his father through thick auburn curls.

"You can't just have cake mix, you'll be sick." He shook his head and smiled at his youngest son. "I'll think about it."

 ** _Ding-Dong._**

"Right. That will be the n-nanny." Mr Addison answered the door, revealing a rather plump woman with grey hair and eyes like coal.

"Ah, uh, you're n-not N-nanny Bishop."

"No. I'm Nanny Wallop. Nanny Bishop is busy." She said, her voice had a nasal sound to it.

"Ah, right. Well, I'll get the children –"

"I can handle the children, Mr…"

"Addison," he corrected.

Frederick waited in the hall, evilly eyeing the big old woman.

"You may go, Mr Addison." She practically pushed him out the door.

"Be –" The door slammed shut.

He sighed.

"…Good."

Well, that didn't go as well as he thought it would have.

He made his way to work, with a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He hated leaving his children with a nanny, but it was the only way he could go to work and he still had to make funeral arrangements.

Trying his best to put on a brave face, he entered the Bakery. Wondering what he would end up coming home to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi, thank you for your review :) here is the next chapter, enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter two

The bakery was on fire. Not literally, it was just busy with lots of people that piled in wishing to buy, and order, Mr Addison's famous pies, cakes and tarts. As soon as he had opened the bakery people swarmed through the door, waiting for however long they needed to, just to get a taste of the delicious treats that were being sold.

"Three raspberry muffins, two small lemon tarts and one strawberry tart!" Madeline yelled over the noise of the crowed, and handed a small bag over the counter to one of the local customers.

Madeline was lovely, she was the only employee of Mr Addison's that he trusted. She had golden brown hair that was often tied into a dull pony tail, and eyes that lit up like the moon. Madeline almost always smelled like the sweet smell of strawberry jam, due to her handling all of the sweet treats, though she never minded. Her smile was contagious, and her voice was the closest thing that resembled music.

And then there was Gertrude. The cleaner who was more of a hag than a human. Her grey scraggy hair placed in a bun at the back of her head. Gertrude's back was like the curved end of a candy cane; hunched over. She had dark beady eyes that would always squint at the faces of the customers, and had a nose that looked more like a vulture's beak she poked into everyone's business. She worked for Mr Addison for years, 'The stupid, stuttering fool' she would call him on occasion along with a few other insults, but because Jeremy was too soft and good at heart he had the stupidity of keeping her as part of his staff.

Jeremy was stressfully working in the kitchen, he had several different bakes on the go. He had six different mixing bowls, contain six different flavoured cake mix. Three other stations where he had been rolling out pastry.

He had been working so hard, he hadn't even noticed the flour on his face. It seemed as though his work never ended. He worked at the bakery from eight in the morning, until three thirty in the afternoon every day except Wednesday. Though he wouldn't call it a day off, more like a work day away from work.

He never stopped. Of course, it would have been so much if his darling wife was still around, how he missed her so. Since she died, he felt like his family was falling apart. Frederick had started wetting the bed, Lucy's health was deteriorating, Conrad hardly came out of his room, and the twins were making his life a living hell. It didn't help that he was going through nannies as if they were tissues.

Mr Addison glanced at the clock, barely an hour had passed from leaving his house. He wiped his brow with the back of his forearm.

'Only six and a half hours to go,' he thought, tiredly. 'And then more mayhem.'

* * *

Conrad ran, he couldn't take being bored anymore. He knew his father wouldn't be mad, Conrad did ask him to return the library book and get a new one that he hadn't read yet. Of course he wasn't going to tell his father about the mess in the kitchen, besides he probably wouldn't understand what he was trying to say anyway.

The boy weaved through the crowd, clutching his library book for dear life. Conrad stood up on his tip-toes catching Madeline's eye. He lit up as she finger spelled kitchen. He brought his hand to his and touched his fingertips to his chin and moved his hand downward, _"Thank you."_

Conrad scurried behind the counter and into the back room, where he found his father working. His small hand gave a tap on his father's shoulder, causing Mr Addison to jump, and drop whatever he was mixing on the floor. Cake mix and glass shards were all over the kitchen floor.

"Oh for goodness sakes!" Mr Addison exclaimed, turning around to see who had caused his fright.

 _"Sorry,"_ his son signed, placing a book on the bench. The nine year old began trying to pick up the mess.

"N-no, stop. Don't you'll hurt yourself, stop." The boy continued to pick up big shards placing them in the palm of his hand. Mr Addison sighed and shook his head, his son couldn't hear him. He knelt down and gently lifted his son's chin up, Conrad's dark chocolate eyes scrutinized his father's lips.

"Leave it, I will clean it up."

 _"Help,"_ Conrad signed, his father stared for a moment trying to work out what it meant.

"Uh, I don't think – uh no," Mr Addison shook his head. _"C-O-N-R-A-D,"_ he signed, pausing with each letter trying to remember what the signs were. Conrad cringed at his father's clumsy signing, his signing was so much different from his mothers. When his mother used to sign to him it was more graceful, and smoother rather than sloppy and disfluent.

When Mr Addison finished signing he smiled proud of himself for signing his boy's name, until he saw the grimace plastered on his son's face.

He frowned. Couldn't even sign his son's blasted name.

"Go home, Rad. I'll get you a new book when I'm done," he said before getting up, and patted his son on the shoulder.

Sighing, Mr Addison began picking up the mess and placing the shards in the bin. As he picked up the last shard of glass it sliced his hand between his thumb and index finger, creating a long cut along his palm.

"Damn it!" He muttered, taking a small tea-towel from his apron pocket, wrapping at around his hand.

He was so distracted with his hand he forgot about the cake mix on the floor, and went flying landing backwards land on the floor. He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment.

The door opened with Gertrude entering to see a lump on the floor.

"Lazing about on the job, Sir? Not very professional." She croaks, nudging his leg with her foot.

"I slipped, n-now would you please clean this up for me?" Mr Addison asked getting himself from the ground.

"If I must."

"That's what you're paid to do," he sighed, rubbing his one of his eyes.

"I don't get paid enough, I want a raise!" Gertrude sneered, mopping the floor.

"Trudy, you know I can't do that, I…I need to think of my family," he reasoned.

Her frown deepened. "Well, if that's the case I think I'll go somewhere else, you stupid blundering fool!" She screeched, kicking the water bucket over, making dirty water spew everywhere.

"Wait, n-no, please I –"

She was gone. He didn't need that old hag did he? He shook his head, the kitchen was a mess and there was no way he could clean and cook at the same time.

It seemed as though within a matter of weeks his life was beginning to fall apart, and no amount of string was going to be able to hold it together.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, your reviews are appreciated :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for not updating sooner, life has been hectic :( and just to say a little thank you to the person following this :) …thank you and I hope you're enjoying the story so far.**

 **Authors note: Sadly, I don't own Nanny McPhee :( But I do own my character :)**

* * *

Chapter three

His hand hurt. His head hurt, and most importantly so did his dignity. Especially after slipping yet again and Madeline walking in to find him lying on the ground in pool of dirty water with a blood soaked towel wrapped around his hand.

Goodness knows how long he had been lying there, he just kind of gave up.

"Sir, are you alright?" She asked, tiptoeing into the kitchen.

"Hmm? Oh, yes j-just fine," he said calmly, still lying on the floor.

Madeline raised a brow, "don't you think it would be better if you were to get up from the floor?" She gave a light chuckle. Her expression changed as soon as she saw his hand.

"You're hurt! Come one let me help you." She made her way over, but lost her footing lading atop of her boss. He groaned in pain.

"I'm so sorry! I-I…" Madeline muttered, trying to get herself up and off Mr Addison.

"You know? If anyone w-were to walk in right n-now they muh-might think this highly unprofessional…" His cheeks became beat red, and he was stuttering more than usual.

"Yes, well luckily I closed the bakery when Gertrude left. She was making quite the quarrel and I didn't want the customers to have to deal with her outburst." Her hair was coming out of her ponytail, her face was so close to his and he didn't know how to react.

"Yes, that's all well and good, buh-but your elbow is digging into muh-my ribs." He wheezed, lowering his eyes to where her elbow was. Madeline's eyes widened and she immediately got up, after awkwardly removing herself off his stomach.

He caught himself staring at her for too long. ' _Your wife died two weeks ago and I don't think this is helping you the situation Jeremy!'_ He mentally scolded himself and cleared his throat and got up, clutching his hand.

She noticed and frowned. "Let me clean you up, Sir. You don't want it to get infected," she nodded to his hand.

He removed the towel, it had stopped bleeding which was a good sign. Her hand felt soft as she held his up to inspect it. Wetting a small cloth she gently dabbed it on his hand, a few winces and groans of pain later his hand was cleaned and bandaged up nicely.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr Addison," she smiled, leaving through the back door.

He took one look around the kitchen and sighed. He will have to come by later and clean up, but for now he needed to get Conrad a new book and drop by the funeral parlor.

* * *

Frederick had hidden their father's keys again. So the doggy door it was. It was a good job Conrad could fit through it, though it was just like a miniature door bearing in mind Maggie couldn't fit through. Maggie was a big dog, but he loved her all the same. She used to be so small and then she just wouldn't stop growing.

He slowly made his way up stairs and into his sister's room. Her lit up slightly, despite how pale and gaunt she looked he thought her to be very pretty. Like a sleeping beauty.

 _"Conrad!"_ She signed, her hands much faster than fathers, but not exactly smooth like mothers. But it could have been due to them shaking.

" _Thirsty?"_ He asked her his hands twice as fast, he tilted his head.

She nodded, he poured water into a glass that sat beside her bed, and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said, her lips at the right speed for him to understand. He had always wondered what her voice sounded like. Well, he had always wondered what everyone's sounded like. He imagined hers to sound sweet like fathers chocolate cake.

Conrad had always assumed that his father sounded clumsy, due to the fact that when he would try to read his lips he wouldn't quite understand what his father was saying. One time his mother had told him about his father's impediment, she said that he can't pronounce certain syllables. He had noticed certain changes in his father, his impediment had become worse since mama died, and the fact that no one seemed to care about how he was taking her death.

 _"What's the matter?"_

Conrad shrugged. _"Father seemed…"_ He heisted, looking for the right word. _"Stressed…"_

* * *

Jeremy felt like digging a hole and burying himself in it. Flicking through the pages in the book Conrad wanted him to change were small scribbles. The possible and only suspect for the crime had to be little Freddie. How did he know that you might ask? _FRED and FREDDIE_ were written on various pages in hand writing only a six year olds would look like.

In the mist of the pages was a piece of paper that didn't belong in the book. It had been folded numerous times, after looking at it for a second, Jeremy placed it in his pocket and entered the library. The little bell on the door rang, causing the librarian to look up from the book she had been reading.

"Oh, Mr Addison, how can I help you?" She asked, placing her book faced down on the table to keep her page.

"Uh, hello, Lily. Um, do have any n-new books? It's j-just Conrad wants a one that he hasn't read before," Mr Addison made his way over to the front desk.

"I'll go and have a look in the back, anything in particular?"

"Something good, uh, like true love and… and happy endings? I'm getting rather concerned for him reading about death and violence." Mr Addison grimaced, placing the other book on the desk.

"How old is he again?" Lily chuckled.

"He's n-n… ten in August," he blushed, he had never had to do that for a while, change what he was going to say because he couldn't say it.

Lily smiled and picked up the book Mr Addison had put down. "He seems like a bright boy, though reading books that are at least several stages above his academic years," she smiled again.

"Ah, yes very bright indeed. They all are, they're j-just hard to handle," he chuckled. "Oh, uh Frederick got a hold of the book and left a few of his trademarks. I'm terribly sorry."

"Oh, that's alright why don't you keep it? You are the only one that registered it out of the library anyway," she offered the book back.

Mr Addison nodded thanks and took the book back.

"Have a look around while I have a peek in the back to see what I can find."

He nodded and she left. He took the piece of paper from his pocket, the wetness of his pocket had of course smudged the ink. He sighed and squinted to try and figure out the writing.

 _Dear Jeremy,_

 _I'm wondering if you would mind coming by at noon to discuss the matter of your money problem. Monday the_

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Your brother, Nathaniel._

The date had been cut out of the note, brilliant. He no way of knowing the date of when he needed to be there. Turning the note around, he was greeted with a picture of a sad face, under the picture said; _Sorry Papa._

Groaning, he placed his head against the book shelf. His eyes landed on a book called; The person you need is Nanny McPhee!

Mr Addison took the book out half way.

"I've picked a few out for you to look at," startled he placed the book back.

"Oh thank you, Lily. Uh could I take them both?"

She nodded and he signed them out.

On his way out he looked to find the book he saw before, but it was gone.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, your reviews are appreciated :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here is another chapter :) and** **Merry Christmas**

* * *

Chapter four

Jeremy made his way to his brother's home at the other end of town. His palms were sweating and his mouth was dry, he hadn't seen his brother since he cried out the news that his wife had died, and that was two weeks ago. His grip tightened around the books that he held to his chest.

He and his brother had never really had a brotherly bond, they acted more like acquaintances than brothers. Nathaniel had always disapproved of Jeremy's life choices; apparently his job was a bit on the weak side, and that he should have built upon his career before settling down and having reckless, snotty nosed children with a woman that was way out of his league.

He knocked on the door with a shaking hand, and waited.

The door opened and Mary – his brother's maid answered.

"Jeremy, how lovely to see you again. How are you and the children coping?" Her voice rings with joy, while her face is showing sadness.

"It's lovely to see you too, Mary… we're trying our best to stay strong…" Jeremy said, with a sad smile.

"So, what bring you here?" She asked, completely forgetting that she worked for Jeremy's brother.

"Uh, well… is… is my brother in?" Jeremy bit his bottom lip.

"Oh yes, of course. Come in and I'll go fetch him for you," Mary blushed, and moved aside to let the man through.

* * *

Conrad couldn't seem to understand how the Nanny had just disappeared into thin air. He had looked everywhere, and yet no sign of her anywhere.

The house was a mess, and every so often he would see little Frederick running around in nothing but a pair of their fathers undergarments on his head, and a shirt around his neck like a cape. He would need to wash his eyes later.

He had not the slightest idea what was going on.

Conrad made his way to the kitchen and found Arthur…or was it Albert? Anyway, one of them was standing on the table facing away from him, throwing eggs into the air and hitting them with a bat. Egg was everywhere. Flour was everywhere. There was a lump of brown stuff on the floor… he didn't even want to know what that was.

He made a small grunting noise to get his brother's attention. It must have worked because Albert…Arthur turned around.

"What are you doing?" Conrad signed with a serious expression on his little face.

His brother stared at him with a blank expression. Yep, it was Arthur. Arthur might not have been the brightest flower in the garden, but he was certainly not the dullest.

"What?"

Conrad rolled his big brown eyes and left, closing the door just before and egg hit the back of it.

What will father do? The poor man's going to have a heart attack.

* * *

Jeremy waited patiently for his brother. Here could here talking coming from upstairs, he listened.

"Mr Addison? Your brother is here to see you," Mary said, quietly.

He heard his brother groan. "That idiot? Tell him to go away."

"Sir, he's your brother and he wants to talk to you."

"Can't you just tell him I'm busy?" Nathaniel's voice sounded stern.

"His wife has just died, he may just need some comfort," Mary reasoned.

"Oh, and the death of his wife is my fault? Since when have you known me to give out hugs, Mary?"

"Jeremy is waiting for you down stairs, and if you don't go down right now you're making your own dinner."

There is a moment of silence.

"Fine!"

A minute later the stairs creak.

Jeremy stays seated in the living room, a little annoyed by the conversation he just heard… that he wasn't meant to hear.

"Ah, Jeremy, dear brother how… _lovely_ it is to see you," his voice was lathered in fake enthusiasm.

"You look well," Jeremy said, getting up from the sofa.

"Wish I could say the same for you," Nathaniel grimaced. "Why do smell like a wet mop?"

The younger man blushed. "Long story."

"What happened to your hand?" He asked again.

"Well, that's a long story too," he placed his hand in his pocket as though to hide it.

Nathaniel took a seat on the sofa crossing one leg over the other. He looked rather annoyed, probably because he had better things to be doing.

"So, what do you want, Jeremy?" Straight to the point then.

Jeremy wrung his hands nervously, "well, I…Uh, you see um…"

"Oh spit it out will you, I haven't got all day!" He snapped, causing his brother to flinch.

"Sorry, um…" Jeremy took the small piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. "I found this, and um, I –"

Nathaniel got up and snatched the letter from him, he snorted. "I sent that a week and a half ago, and you've only just gotten it now?"

"Uh, well nuh-n-no, um Conrad hid it," Nathaniel's eyes flickered to his brother's face, he smirked.

"Still struggling with your N's, brother dear?"

Jeremy felt ashamed, and embarrassed, even when they were children he would make fun of him, for either his stammer or his red hair. Of course Nathaniel was perfect and could do no wrong.

He could feel his face getting hot at his brothers comment.

"Could we get back to the… the reason that I'm her, Thaniel?"

"Fine, if we must," he rolled his dull, blue eyes.

"How much are you willing to l-loan me?"

"Loan you?" He snorted, tossing the letter into the dying fire.

Jeremy nodded, "you said in the letter that we should talk about my money problem. I assumed…"

"I didn't actually think you would respond," he smirked.

"What?"

"Just because I wrote the letter, doesn't mean I'm going to stick to it. To be honest never wanted to send the letter in the first place." He muttered, placing more wood on the fire.

Jeremy was confused.

"You're n-not going to loan me?" Tilted his head.

"Of course I'm not, I'm not responsible for your problems." Yes, Nathaniel could be an ass at times, but this is completely appalling even for him.

"But the children, oh God the children," he ran a clammy hand through his auburn curls.

"Send them to the work house, I never liked the brats anyway." Although he meant it as a joke it came out deadly serious.

"That's n-not funny! If I don't have money to pay off the house and look after the children, the authorities will take them from me." Jeremy had tears in his eyes.

"Think of it this way, I'm helping by not helping." Jeremy sobbed more. Nathaniel grimaced, "I do wish you wouldn't do that, you look like an ugly woman when you cry."

That only made things worse.

"Don't bother coming to the funeral, she wouldn't have wanted you there anyway!" Jeremy said between sobs.

Nathaniel's expression saddened, but he didn't say anything.

Jeremy grab the books and went on his way, slamming the door hard. He didn't need him, he'd just have to find another job, or do extra hours at the bakery. He'd sell a kidney if it meant that his children would be safe and looked after.

His wife would have wanted him to make sure nothing happened to the children.

To make sure they're loved.

To make sure they're safe.

To make sure they're happy.

Right now, Jeremy felt like he couldn't do any of those things, even if he tried.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, let me know what you think :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here is chapter five, sorry it took so long and sorry that's only short,but here it is.**

* * *

Chapter five

Mr Addison had been sitting on a bench that was around the corner from the funeral parlour. He had been sitting on for at least half an hour, cradling his head in his hands. Somewhere in the back of his mind knew that he would have to move soon.

He just couldn't bear the thought of seeing his wife on a slab. He couldn't bear the thought of his children crying at her funeral. He couldn't bear the thought of being a father that couldn't even provide for his own children.

He was in pieces and there was not a glue strong enough that would be able to hold him together.

Jeremy took a shaky, but bated breath, wiped his eyes and smoothed down his curls. He sniffled and rose from the stone bench, making his way around the corner to the parlour.

The parlour wasn't exactly lively… well, because of obvious reasons. Mr Jowls and Mr Wheen had long retired, so Mr Cedric Brown was now the full time owner, with the assistance of his son, Simon Brown.

Jeremy wasn't the most stable of people right now, his legs practically buckled as he opened the parlour door, he tried to keep his composure, to no avail. Death is not a joke, it is permanent, and nothing he could do would bring his darling wife back from this misfortune.

"Ah, Mr Addison, we weren't expecting you today," Simon said, surprised with a hint of a smile.

Simon had grown into a fine young man, smart, caring, and a father to two little girls; Rosie and Emily. Simon had decided to help his father at the parlour after Mr Jowls and Mr Wheen had left about fifteen years ago.

Mr Addison did his best to force a smile. "Um, well… I was j-just wondering if I… If I could…" He stammered, pointing to the curtain with a trembling hand.

Simon gave him a pitied look and then nodded understandingly.

Gingerly, Jeremy stepped behind the curtain where Cedric was preparing his wife for the funeral next week.

Mr Brown looked up and noticed the broken man, standing awkwardly near the door wringing his hands.

"I'll give you two some privacy," he said, before shuffling past the man that was about to burst into tears.

There she lay, like he had expected; on a slab. The unnerving thing was that she didn't look dead, she looked like she was sleeping.

 _'Most people do, though I suppose,'_ he thought as he got closer to her.

Her long wavy golden hair was draped over her shoulders, the only times he had saw her with her down was at night and when she was giving birth to all of their beautiful children.

He smiled at the thought, even when she was sweaty and dishevelled, to him she was the most beautiful human being on earth.

She looked so pale, he sniffled. _'She almost always had rosy cheeks, now her face shows no emotion.'_

He wiped his eyes and knelt down by her, taking her hand in his and brushing his thumb against her cold knuckles.

"I…I'm doing my best, Hettie. It's… j-just so hard without you," his voice tight against the tears he was trying to repress, even saying her name made his heart break.

"You… You were my life, and n-now…" The tears he was trying to hold back were threatening to spill over his eyes. "…And now you're gone…"

He waited for a moment, as if she would speak a reply. He felt like an idiot, of course she wouldn't she was… dead and yet he spoke to her as if he could hear talking back.

"The children… oh, the children… they're…" He placed a hand on the side of his face gliding it down to cover his mouth. "They're out of control, they don't listen to me…I… don't know what to do… everything is falling apart, and…and…" Jeremy's eyes began to leak salty tears, they streamed down his face, streaking his cheeks with small lines of wetness.

He let loose of his wife's hand, and wiped his cheeks and nose with his sleeves like a child would.

Jeremy picked himself up from the floor, not caring to dust down his knees. He gave one more look at his beautiful wife, smiling sadly, "I'll see you at the funeral, my love," he whimpered, bending slightly placing his lips on her forehead one last time until then.

He turned to leave when…

"The person you need is Nanny McPhee."

He froze, and his red rimmed eyes widened slightly. He then quickly, and saliently took himself out of the funeral parlour, not giving a thought about saying goodbye to the Browns.

 _'The person you need is Nanny McPhee?'_ He had read that somewhere, who was she and how could she possibly know that he needed her?

* * *

 **Whew, not really sure what to say to after that...**

 **Thank you for reading :) reviews are always welcome :)**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter six

Father would be home soon and there was still no sign of the nanny. Conrad had even checked the barn, but there was no luck and no sign of her.

Maybe Albert had set her on fire, he had a thing for putting things into the fire place. One time he had put one of father's pies in the fire because he thought it needed to be cooked for longer. Conrad had to admit his brother Albert was strange, to be fair they all were in their own way, he thought.

The fire thing had escalated when their mother had died, just two weeks ago. He had never spoken a word since then, which was hard for Conrad giving the only way they could communicate with him was by him reading lips.

Conrad had found him in the living room… by the fireplace… burning things. Who would have guessed?

From what he gathered, the things that he was burning didn't seem to look that important.

Albert didn't seem to notice that Conrad was there, then again no one seemed to notice him. He would of thought that he had gotten used to not being noticed by now, but he most certainly had not, and wasn't about to.

"Where nanny?" He tried his best to say, Albert just glared at him then continued to place paper into the fire and watching it crinkle up as it burned.

He frowned, unable to come to terms with the fact that his brother had just plain ignored him. He could tell that Albert knew where she was, but he obviously wasn't going to spit out her location.

Conrad's eyes caught the sight of his mother's dress that was hanging by the window. Father had picked it out for her to wear when it was time to say goodbye to her. It was nicest dress she owned, father had bought it for her birthday, of course he had saved up for it… a lot, but in the end the look on her face when she had received it was priceless. The shade of maroon had once brought out the blue in her eyes, and made her porcelain skin stand out in the prettiest way.

Of course those were just memories now. Memories of a woman that would no longer be able to tuck them in at night. Memories of a woman that would no longer sing to her children. Memories of their mother that they loved dearly and forever.

The boy sighed, his eyes no longer lingering on the memories of the person he loved so much. Instead he made his way out of the living room, not bothering to close the door behind him.

He dragged his feet up the stairs, avoiding his naked younger brother who was running backward and forward on the landing.

He didn't bother saying anything, no one ever listened to him anyway. Despite the fact that Conrad was deaf, he had always thought of himself as a good listener. He listened in different ways, he listened with his eyes, and he could see what people were saying. They showed him what they were saying.

Though, none of that seemed to matter when they wouldn't listen to him, they never did.

When he got to his room, he locked the door turning his back to it and sliding down. Resting his head on his knees.

He wanted his mother back, he wanted the only person that listened to him back.

* * *

 _Nanny McPhee._ That's all Mr Addison could seem to think about. Who was she, and how on earth did the name keep following him? Was it a good thing that this _Nanny McPhee,_ was trying to contact him? He didn't know, then again his brother would often tell him that he knew nothing at all.

Sighing, he opened the front gate that squeaked in the process. He made a mental note that he would have to put oil on the hinge later.

The door was locked. Of course it was locked. He rolled his eyes and began checking his pockets for his keys… they weren't there, Frederick must have taken them when he was wrapped around his legs this morning. The little tinker.

He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Where was the nanny? _Oh, God._

Well, the doggy door was out of the question, if Freddy had locked the front door there was no doubt that he had locked the bolt on the doggy door.

Who's stupid ideas was it to put a bolt…on the…doggy door. Yup, realising that it was his stupid idea, Mr Addison growled in frustration. He was such an idiot sometimes. He knew he couldn't go around the back way because that would mean he'd have to walk through the compost heap to reach the back door. He didn't really feel like trailing a ten ton of mud through the house.

He needed to get in somehow, especially if the children were being unsupervised. What was the nanny doing?

Placing his hands on his hips, tilting his head in the air with his eyes closed, opening them slowly to notice that one of the windows on the third floor was open.

 _'I'm either to stand out here, locked out of my own house looking like a fool, or die trying climb the damn thing!'_

The man groaned, knowing that he would have to choose the latter. ' _The nanny had better have a bloody good excuse for not answering the bloody door!'_

He was getting too old for this, even if he was only thirty-two years of age.

Mr Addison braced himself before he began pulling his weight up the drain pipe.

It took him about three attempts to try and get his feet in the right place, but when he did he seemed to be getting the hang of climbing the pipe. _'It's all about concentration,'_ he thought. Eventually he reached the canopy that rested above the front door, he pulled himself from the pipe and onto the edge of it. He wasn't that high up, but to Mr Addison it was as if he was onto of a very big cliff. He gulped and tried not to think about it too much.

When he had finished resting, he began to climb the pipe again. The pipe made a few creaking noises, he just preyed the thing could hold his weight.

Third floor window, it was Lucy's room and he was almost there. Jeremy stretched his arm toward the windowsill getting his grip on it. He then heaved himself up, but anywhere below his waist wouldn't move, his belt buckle was stuck on one of hooks where the flower basket used to be. _'Brilliant!'_ He tried to unhook himself, but to no avail, his hands where slipping. He pulled until the leather snapped which caused his belt to come from around his waist and him to fall through the window with a _plop._

Mr Addison picked himself up and peered out of the window, and frowned his belt was swaying.

"Papa, what are you…" Lucy's question goes unfinished as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. His eyes widened as his dear daughter began to convulse in her bed. Her limbs thrashed and small involuntary sounds escaped her lips.

"Lucy!" Mr Addison was at her side immediately, this had happened a few times before. Mr Addison placed a hand over her forehead, she had a fever. He rushed over to the basin, trying to keep his trousers from falling down, due to the lack of a belt.

He dampened a small cloth and placed his over her head when she he had stopped seizing. He cooed at her running a hand through her wavy blonde hair. She looked just like her mother. It was hard for him to believe that after what had just happened the she could look so peaceful sleeping. He removed her quilt to help her cool down.

That was when he heard a bang… A loud bang.

Racing down the stairs almost tripping on his trouser leg doing so, he made it to the kitchen. He was completely dumbfounded at how much the kitchen looked like a bomb had just been set off in the middle of it. It would take him forever to clean – what was on the ceiling?

"ALBERT!" He yelled, getting the boys attention.

"I'm Arthur." The boy deadpanned, throwing another egg into the air and bating it at the wall.

"Right, that's what I meant. You will… You will st-stop this at once!" He snapped, trying to sound threatening.

"Or what?" Arthur picked up a tomato this time, it splatted against the door.

"Or I'll take away your toys."

The young boy made a face. "Oh, no not my toys. Not my precious toys. Oh, please." His voice was filled with fake concern. Mr Addison grimaced his son was beginning to sound like just like Nathaniel.

"D-don't speak to me l-like that!"

"Duh-duh-duh don't speak to you luh-luh like what?" The boy smirked, taking one of the potatoes and launching it at the window making a thud sound.

Jeremy's heart sank, none of his children had ever made fun of him because of his impediment. Ever. His face fell at the look in his sons eyes.

"N-now d-don't –"

"Oh, go stutter to someone who cares."

He had enough of being insulted and left the room slamming the door, as he did so he was almost knocked down by Maggie the dog, who had a naked Frederick on her back.

"Freddie, get s-some clothes on this instant!" He groaned as he went unnoticed.

Mr Addison made his way over to the coat closet to hang up his jacket and placed it on a _'hook'._ Confused he looked again to see that he had in fact placed his jacket on top of the nanny's head.

Slowly, he removed the jacket from her head. "Ms Wallop?"

She was tied up with a bed sheet and had a pair of socks shoved in her mouth. She mumbled a few incoherent words before Mr Addison frantically untied her from the sheet and removed her sock gag.

"Your children are the most horrible little creatures that I have ever met! Don't you know how to keep them under control?"

Mr Addison was still wide eyed and unable to process what he just happened.

She B lined for the door, Mr Addison grabbed her arm twisting her around, her eyes lowered and noticed that his trousers where lower that they were meant to be. Curse his tiny waist.

He followed her gaze, blushed and stuttered. She opened the door, but not before slapping him on the cheek.

"Wait!" He pulled up his trousers frantically.

"Hello…"

It was him. Him from the authorities.

"Uh, it's n-not what it looks like."

"Of course."

"She was in the closet and I helped her," he said nodding, then realizing how weird that sounded.

"Hmmhmm," the man muttered writing something in a small black note book.

Jeremy cleared his throat nervously.

"May I come in?"

"Uh, n-now isn't really a good time –"

 **CRASH!**

A nervous laugh escaped his lips.

The man peeked behind the door, but Mr Addison moved slowly to block his view.

"I think…I think it would be better if you came a-a-another time, you see the children are grieving,"

"GIVE ME THAT BACK YOU POOPY HEAD!"

Mr Addison smiled nervously. "Heh, grieving in their own way."

The man's eyes narrowed, and he sniffed. "I'll be back tomorrow morning, first thing." He said then left.

Jeremy closed his eyes, trying to ready himself to face his children.

Conrad came down the stairs to see his father looking a little… stressed.

"WILL EVERYONE JUST LISTEN?!"

A smell of burning, vegetable cricket and naked dog racing.

No one listened, Jeremy felt like his head was going to explode. He was so angry that he didn't notice the hot tears streaming from his eyes. He was at a loss.

A crack of thunder could be heard over the noise of the children squealing and shouting.

Then there was a knock on the door, accompanied by a strange shadow.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading :) let me know what you think :D**

 **Sheila Prior – Hello, thanks for your review, and in answer to your question I am thinking about having more of Simon perhaps in later chapters. In this story his girls aren't that old, sooo that's why I'm thinking about doing another Nanny McPhee Fanfic, hopefully after this one is done, focusing on Simon and his two girls.**

 **If you have any questions, feel free to ask either by review or by PM :)**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter seven

Thunder crackled throughout the house, Mr Addison had been standing in the same spot for about five minutes, still not moving. The person was still standing at the front door, and the shadow seemed to creep up the floor where Mr Addison stood, not daring to move a muscle.

The children's screams and chuckles echoed down the corridor. There was another thud and then a crack, possibly Arthur splatting eggs on the walls of the kitchen again.

Clearly the shadowy figure wasn't going to leave. Mr Addison hesitated, before slowly making his way to the door.

Conrad hid behind the banister on the stairs, praying that the thing at the door was just a fragment of his imagination; that it wasn't real.

The burning smell in the living room was beginning to get stronger, and so was the sense of fear in Mr Addison's stomach.

The shadow turned to the front, just as Mr Addison brought his hand up to the door handle. He closed his eyes, and opened the door.

He opened his eyes and a squeal escaped his lips. His eyes worked their way down the figure.

A dull, black hat with one large feather that had several smaller feathers poking out form the side, sat on top of grey scraggy hair that looked more like straw. She had eyebrows that met in the middle, and grey-blue eyes that seemed to have seen a lot in the life that she had lived. Her cheeks where pink and blotchy, as was her bulbous nose that sat in the middle of her face. Mr Addison gulped, her face seemed to get worse the lower he got. She had two wards, one on her top lip and another on her chin, they both had several hairs sprouting from them. One large tooth stuck out, resting on her bottom lip.

Conrad peaked form behind the banister, to see something that resembled a witch, like the ones he read about in his stories.

"Good evening, Mr Addison. I am Nanny McPhee."

"Oh, you're she… her… um, the thing… yes..."

"Hmm." She grunted in response to the mumbling of the rather nervous man, who was in standing awkwardly in front of her.

"I s-suppose the authorities sent you," he tilted his head slightly, still trying to take in her appearance.

"I do not recall being sent by the authorities, Mr Addison. I am a private nanny."

' _Private Nanny?'_

"A private Nanny? B-but I didn't – I can't afford a –"

"The debt has already been paid. May I come in?" His mouth was agape, unsure if what was going on. ' _The debt had been paid?'_

"Yes, may you… uh, you may I m-mean…" He cursed himself for showing himself up like that. He was such an idiot.

There was another grunt from the woman, and then another rumble of thunder boomed through the house.

Mr Addison moved aside for that rather large woman to enter his home, the door seemed to close shut on its own.

"I understand that your children are extremely ill mannered, and not very well behaved."

"N-no, they…they're – no… G-good gosh… what a thought."

The sound of a piercing scream and a clatter of a plate rushes from the kitchen.

"I HATE YOU ALBERT!"

"I'M ARTHUR YOU IDIOT AND I HATE YOU MORE!"

"Heh, they're just playing. They d-don't mean that," Mr Addison smiled nervously.

"I DO MEAN IT PAPA! I HATE HIM!" Frederick yelled, and Mr Addison dyed a little inside. Closing his eyes and wishing his children were less… chaotic.

"Hmm."

Jeremy placed a hand over his mouth, a tad embarrassed that this visitor had to whiteness such disarray.

He bit his lip to prevent himself from yelling back at the six year old, that was probably making just as much mess as Arthur was in the other room.

"What are your main concerns about their behaviour?" Nanny McPhee asked, raising a brow.

"C-concerns? Uh… well…"

"For example, do they listen to instructions?"

Mr Addison began to chew on his finger nail anxiously. "Uh, well you see, that depends on wuh-what they've b-been asked to d-do…" He could feel her eyes staring at him, he felt quite uncomfortable by her gaze.

"Do your children treat people with respect?" Conrad took another peak from behind the stairs to see if he could see what the woman was saying, but couldn't quite make it out.

"N-not exactly – not… uh, n-no." There was a few barks from Maggie and then a howl, Mr Addison tried his hardest to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"Hmm. Well that seems to be enough to being going on with." A wailing scream and a wicked laugh fills the house, causing Mr Addison's eyes to squint. "Your children need me, Mr Addison."

Conrad could tell that his father was completely speechless, just by the look on his face. Of course his father never usually had much to say anyway, but it seemed as though this woman had literally made his father lose all of his half cup of confidence.

"Um, I'll go get the children th-then," he said just as a plate came flying through from the kitchen, smashing against the coat closet.

"I'm sure I'll be alright handling them myself, Mr Addison." She nodded. "Perhaps you should go check on your daughter, I believe she's beginning to stir." She moved passed him, leaving him in a state of confusion.

He cocked a brow, "how did you…" She had already gone.

* * *

Frederick was shouting at Arthur because he had wasted all of the eggs.

"How will Papa make me cake mix now!" Hot tears were streaming down his little plump cheeks. "Why do you have to be stupid?!" He frowned and then picked up a tomato, throwing it off of his brother's face.

"My eye! You little – COME BACK HERE!" Frederick ran, he ran as fast as he could squealing as he did, as he rounded the corner he bumped into a rather scary looking woman. Arthur was close behind him, his face smothered in red juice, and he had his egg covered bat held tightly in his hands.

"Children, I am Nanny McPhee. You will listen to what I tell you and you will do as I say." She stated calmly, looking down to the children's height.

"Did she just say her name was Nanny McPee?" Frederick giggled, placing his small chubby hands over his mouth.

"No, I'm pretty sure she said it was Fanny Big Pee," Arthur snorted to himself.

"Hmm. You are to go upstairs and get dressed for bed, do understand, children." She tilted her head.

Arthur shook his head, "I don't think so, besides I'm having too much fun splatting vegetables off things. Plus, sleep is for babies." He muttered, then left back to the kitchen but not before bonking Freddy on the head with his bat.

Conrad saw Frederick rub his head with his small chubby baby hand, before running past the woman charging up the stairs, almost knocking right into Conrad.

The old lady retreated to the living room, where Albert was still burning pieces of paper, scrunching it up and throwing it in the fire place. Smoky, red cinders rose up from the pit, with the smothering smell and taste of burnt toast rising in the air.

"You will stop what you are doing and go off to bed," said Nanny McPhee, lowering her head slightly to get a better look at the child.

Albert glanced up at the woman, only to grimace at her and then carry on placing random things into the fire.

"Hmm." Nanny McPhee made her way back into the hall, and Conrad hid back behind the banister.

"Only when you are ready to listen, will you stop what you are doing," she said, revealing a large wooden stick from her cloak.

"We will not stop and we will never listen to you!" Arthur yelled, and then there was a splat then a crack.

Frederick was back on Maggie's back with a toy sword in one of his hands and a small shield in the other, shouting 'CHARGE' pointing the wooden sward in the air. It was almost as if he was riding Maggie as if she were his horse and he was her knight. All Maggie needed to do was rear and then it would be as if they were heading into battle.

Conrad covered his eyes before Freddie began to speed down the stairs on Maggie as she howled.

"Very well," she muttered and let the stick connect against the hardwood flooring. Conrad swore he saw small sparks spring from the stick like magic.

The splatting of food began to get faster, and Maggie the dog was running faster than Conrad's eyes could blink. And the burning smell in the living room was getting stronger.

Arthur didn't know what was going on, one minute he was throwing spuds against the wall and then the next his arm seemed to be moving 10 times the speed it was going before. Not only did he find that strange, but he could no longer hear the splatting and the thudding of the food. Right now he felt as deaf as a post… as deaf as Conrad.

He yelled, but he could not hear a single thing. His arms began to ache but they would not stop their movements.

"Are you ready to listen?" A voice in his head appeared, the old hag's voice to be exact.

His eyes narrowed, he would never listen to her. "NEVER, I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY!" He had no idea how loud he was talking, if he was at all, he wasn't quite sure.

Conrad gulped as he saw smoke come through the gap under the door of the living room, it looked like their grandfather's cars exhaust pipe, of cause grandfather never admitted that the car was on its last … wheels.

The young boy's eyes widened when he opened the door to the smokey room, Albert was covered in soot, and he had several valuable treasures in his hands ready to feed to the dragon, who devoured, and destroyed everything he was being fed.

Frederick was clinging on to Maggie for dear life, his little legs swaying as the giant dog would jump up two stairs at a time up and down.

"Hewwwwlllllp muhhheee" he squealed, almost as if he was about to cry. "Puuhhhluuheeese!"

"Your brothers are pleading, don't want to help? All you have to do is listen." The voice appeared in Arthurs head again. Was he going crazy? Or was that old lady a witch?

Conrad began fighting with Albert to prevent him putting mothers dress into the fire.

"Stop!" Conrad yelled.

Albert didn't listen, it was as if he couldn't. His movements were so stiff it looked like he had been replaced with a tin man that needed oiled.

Arthur knew that if he didn't stop soon his arm would quite possibly fall off in the process. He growled and groaned. He would have to listen.

"FINE! YOU WIN, I'M LISTENING!"

Nanny McPhee smiled. "That's better, now once you have stopped you are to get dressed for bed and go to sleep, do you understand?"

He hesitated.

Mothers dress was so close to being incinerated.

Frederick's hands were slipping he couldn't hold on much longer, he was going to fall.

"YES! YES I UNDERSTAND!"

 **CLICK!**

The children were lined up in order of age in the hall. Mothers dress was saved, the kitchen was back to how it was, Maggie was lying in her bed, and the house no longer smelt like smoke. Everything was back to normal.

Conrad couldn't believe what had happened.

"Now, children off to bed," Nanny McPhee said, while signing it so Conrad could understand to. She can sign? He thought and then smiled as they all made their way up the stairs to bed.

* * *

Mr Addison made his way down stairs looking rather worried. "My deepest apologise for m-my children, I understand if you want to leave –"

"Mr Addison, the children are in bed." His forehead creased slightly.

"In…in bed? B-but they n-never –"

"Yes, lesson one; to listen to instructions is complete."

"Lesson? C-complete… they – they listened?" He was completely flabbergasted, his children had never listened to anyone.

"Hmm." She nodded, and then headed down the corridor.

Maybe this 'Nanny McPhee' was what he needed after all. He thought, smiling. His children, went to bed… when they were told to.

* * *

 **A/N: this chapter took sooo long to write and I apologise, but it was because I had a little bit of writers block, which was absolutely horrible :/ but I hope that it was good enough for you guys to read :)**

 **I would love to hear your opinions and thoughts of the children and Mr Addison, that would be awesome : D who is your favourite? Who deserves to be put on the naughty step? Hehe, I would love to see what you think.**

 **Thank you so much for reading :) your reviews are always appreciated :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you for your review :) here is the next chapter**

* * *

Chapter eight

The next morning, Conrad woke up at a quarter to six; his usual body clock never seized to amaze him. It was at this time that he usually fed the animals in the barn. He had started doing it when mother became ill as a way of helping father by doing odd little chores. After mother died, Conrad seemed to find himself going to the barn more often than he used to. He would take a good book and sit down and lean against one of the hay bales and just read. He would get immersed in the book he was reading, wishing that he could be part of that story, wishing the book wasn't just fiction. Because every single book he read would take him on a different adventure, every character he pictured would whisk him away to a different land. The books he read weren't just books, they were his friends. His only friends.

When Conrad entered the barn, he noticed that, Nelly; the cow, was waiting in the spot where she always waited for him. He smiled, it had become a bit of a routine that whenever he entered the barn, he would bring her a slice of turnip as she would always seem to twist his arm when he was feeding the piglets. Conrad had always had a soft spot for Nelly, she was brown and white cow who always wanted to lick him on the face. They had always had a bond even when Conrad was just a little tyke. Though, he did feel for her as at one point she was about to be a mother until her calf died during birth. Since then Nelly had then taken to Conrad as a substitute calf, to which he thought it was completely understandable due to the fact that Conrad had been around her since he was born.

The young boy plucked the chunk of turnip from his old trouser pocket, and held his hand flat as the gentle being gobbled the vegetable from his palm, licking it for extra measure. Conrad giggled, she was a very sweet cow, and a very good friend.

Once Conrad had put her out in the field, he began collecting the eggs from the hens, he only managed to basket three eggs, at this rate it wasn't enough to make up for the amount of eggs Arthur had wasted yesterday. The curly haired boy sighed as he placed them in the basket he was carrying, and then made his way back to the house.

The clock in the kitchen said it was only half six in the morning, no one was up yet, they wouldn't be up for another hour. Conrad read one of his books for a while, only to be interrupted by the lady with the magic, who pondered into the kitchen and took a seat opposite him. He huddled closer into his book, desperately trying not to make eye contact of any sort.

"Hmm." Nanny McPhee said to herself and gone over to the stove to boil some water.

Conrad noticed that she didn't have her magic stick with her. _Where was it? How did she make the stick magic? Or was it her that was magic and not the stick at all?_ Questions began to swim around Conrad's head faster than a fish in water. _Who was she? How did she find our house? Why is there a witch in our house?_

She sat back down and placed a small glass of orange juice next to Conrad, who looked up from his book. The Nanny sipped her tea and looked over at the boy. Conrad raised his hand to his chin and pulled it forward - " _Thank you."_ He signed, and took a sip and then stuck his nose in his book again. If his mother was still here, she would have praised him for remembering his manners. Most of the time he was the only one that knew what manners actually meant. He didn't even know if his brothers knew what _thank you_ meant.

Conrad wasn't really sure of what he should do, he had never really spoken to any of the nannies before, the only thing he had signed to any nanny was, thank you and that was five minutes ago. The woman just kept staring at him, and he could hardly concentrate on his book.

Nanny McPhee nodded to herself, she knew that Conrad had much potential, she knew he doubted himself a lot. She knew that Mr Addison could always rely on him, may too often.

The nanny grunted to herself getting up, placing the dishes in the sink and leaving. Conrad was a tad confused. He wasn't quite sure of what had happened. Usually it was only ever him to get up this early and yet to day he had company and he chose to ignore her. What would his mother have thought? He felt terrible. He would have to apologize right away, he hated it when people ignored him, so why was it any different?

The young boy made his way to the room where the nanny was staying, knocking on the door. It opened slowly on its own. Conrad walked into the room, but no one was there, the room was clean and the bed looked as if it hadn't been touched. That was strange.

It was there; the stick, it was just standing in the corner of the room. He knew he shouldn't touch it, but he couldn't help it. He grabbed it in his hands, placing them on top of the stick, like he had saw the nanny do it. Conrad glanced around first before he lifted it slightly and tap it in the ground. Nothing seemed to happen, sighing he placed the stick back and turned to leave, until he caught a glimpse of the woman.

His heart forgot how to function, before he knew it he was on the floor from fright.

" _I did knock."_ He signed, getting up from the floor.

" _I know you did, may I ask what it is you want?"_ She signed back.

" _I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry...for before."_

" _I don't recall you needing to apologize to me,"_ Nanny McPhee tilted her head at the boy, who seemed to bow his head down to avoid her gaze.

Conrad sighed, this was harder than he thought it would be. Nanny McPhee smiled, this boy is the most well mannered in the house, one less child to teach the second lesson to.

* * *

Freddie thought it would be a good idea to go into his father's room and wake him up. He thought it was the best he could do, after all he was the one that had broken his alarm clock.

Mr Addison was still sleeping soundly in his bed, his arm was hanging limply over the side. Frederick had always been a light sleeper, which is why he was awake at this time in the morning, he could hear Conrad walking about the house.

There were a few sleepy noises coming from his father's mouth, which he thought sounded quite funny.

The auburn hair boy climbed up onto the bed gently, trying not to wake his father...not yet anyway.

After he had crawled up closer enough, he got to his feet, bent his knees and spread out his arms and then jumped in his unsuspected sleeping victim.

"Ahh! Oh, hmmm. My ribs, I-I c-can't breathe - Freddie!" Jeremy held his ribs and tried to regain his breathing pattern.

"Time to get up Papa, I was waking you up." Freddie giggled, moving off of his father's body.

"Well, I c-can tell you that you succeeded, th-thank you," he rubbed his ribs once more, then rubbed the sleep out of his drooping eyes.

 **Ding-dong**

Jeremy's face drained of colour. He got out of bed and walked over to the window, peeking out of it he saw the man from yesterday. It was the authorities.

He heard the front door open.

"May I help you?" It was Nanny McPhee who answered it.

"May I come in, I'm here to talk to Mr Addison." The door closed behind him.

Jeremy gulped, he wasn't even dressed yet. What was he going to do?

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading :) reviews are very much appreciated :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Wow, so sorry for not updating this in so long. Not abandoning the story, just needed a little time off from this one, sorry.**

 **Anyway, here is a new chapter and I hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

Chapter nine

"Mr Addison? A man from the authorities is here to speak with you." The voice belonged to the nanny.

"Juh-just a minute… I'll be, uh, down in a minute…"

Running a shaking hand through his auburn curls, Jeremy began pacing back and forth until his footprints were worn into the solid wood. What was he going to do? They'd obviously ask questions, but how would he answer them without looking completely incompetent? How would that look on the authorities papers? _Father too stupid to look after own children_. He shuddered at the thought of it. Perhaps, if he looked smart and competent, then maybe he would at least be awarded some brownie points with one of his dress suits.

Mr Addison frantically hurried his way over to the closet.

Freddie, who was sitting on the bed with a face filled regret shifted where he sat. "Papa don't -" Little Freddie's plea went unfinished as his father had already turned the closet handle, that was attached to a thin line of string. Once the door was pulled open, Jeremy was greeted with a big red bucket of flour that tipped down over his head. He was engulfed by a huge cloud of white dust. Frederick tried his best not to burst out laughing as his father removed the bucket from his head, lifting it carefully as more flour spewed out and over his body.

Coughing, loudly, Mr Addison ran a hand down his face trying to remove the extent of the mess that stuck to the beads of sweat that were beginning to form. He blinked, dropping the bucket on the floor with a thud. His closet was empty.

Sighing, Jeremy turned to his youngest son, with a face that looked as if he just wanted to crawl into a hole and bury himself in it. He was tired, he was done.

"Where are my clothes, Freddie?" As he spoke, small flour clouds left his lips which Frederick found quite amusing.

His son shrugged his tiny shoulders. Jeremy wasn't buying it, he knew that Frederick knew where his clothes were.

"Frederick," he pushed, and Freddie looked up with doe eyes.

"Promise you won't get mad?" Frederick fiddled with his hands that were laying in his lap, twiddling his fingers.

Mr Addison leaned down to the height of his son, looking him straight in the eye. "I promise nuh-not to get mad…"

The young boy hopped off the bed and took his father's hand, leading him to his room. Jeremy was a little confused as to why his son couldn't have just told him where he had hidden his clothes.

The young lad led his father to the window, the older man didn't have a very good feeling about it. Frederick let go of Jeremy's hand and scuffed his feet on the ground as if he knew that he was going to get into some sort of trouble.

Gingerly, Mr Addison glanced out of the window - his clothes were in the compost heap, along with some of his son's toys.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, trying his best to ' _not get mad'_. "What, um, why are - Frederick, what did you do?"

"My toys, I wanted to see if they could float… but they needed a parachute… and…"

"And?" Mr Addison raised a brow in concern.

"Well, Arthur thought it was a good idea…"

Jeremy shook his head, doing so flour blew off his curls. "Arthur should know better, and so should you, Freddie. N-now I have nuh-no clothes and I'm covered in damn flour!" This made Frederick flinched at the tone his father used, but Jeremy didn't seem to notice.

"The authorities are down stairs, and… and what am I supposed to do? Go down in my n-nightgown?"

"You promised you wouldn't get mad..." The boy whispered, hands trembling.

"Well I am!" It came out harsher than he had meant it, causing the young child to sprint out of the room, eyes red from tears that were about to spew.

"Frederick, wait I -" He had never shouted like that before, never mind at his six year old son. A pit formed in the man Jeremy's stomach, he hated himself.

* * *

The man was bald. Arthur thought it was funny how he had combed back what little hair he had left. Not that it made a difference, he was still bald. A few wispy hairs wasn't gonna do much to make him think otherwise.

Every so often, Arthur noticed that the man would write something down on his clipboard, while scanning the room with his beady eyes. It made him wonder why on earth he was here in the first place, as if judging what they had and what they didn't. He also noticed that he his eyes would wander over to him, in return Arthur would give a glare until he removed his gaze.

"And what's your name, young man?" The older gentleman asked, his dark orbs travelling to Arthur's bright blue ones.

"None of your business."

With that the old man stuck his nose up in the air in shock. What kind of children was Mr Addison raising? No wonder the authorities had been notified, there had been many complaints within the short weeks. Speaking of Mr Addison, where on earth was he?

* * *

Just as luck should have it, one of the many shirts Frederick had ' _parachuted'_ out of the window, one of them was hanging from one of the nails that stuck out of the drain pipe; losely blowing in the wind.

He was already covered in flour, and didn't have a clean shirt. Feeling determined, he opened the window as wide as it would go reaching his arm out. The tips of his fingers brushed against the fabric that was blowing a little just out of his reach.

"Come on, a little farther…" Jeremy leaned farther out the window, his body twisting slightly as his arm stuck out closers to the shirt. He placed his other hand on the windowsill to keep balanced and moved out a little more, grasping the shirt in his hand, he tugged but it wouldn't move. Hesitating, Jeremy used his other hand to slip it on the nail, but as he placed his hand back on the ledge his hand slipped and lurching his body out of the window - his shirt being not good enough to be a parachute.

Grunting, his landing was sludgy, and wet - head first into a pile of decaying organic matter wasn't exactly the best thing Jeremy had wanted to come from trying to get the shirt, but at least his landing was padded.

* * *

The doorbell rang, which was odd considering Arthur couldn't think of who else would want to be here. He knew he was the one that had to answer it because the witch of a nanny was busy with his crying baby brother. He didn't really want to take his eyes off the bald man, but he had too when the doorbell rang again.

Before going to answer the door, Arthur squinted out a glare to the man sitting on the sofa. The man shifted uncomfortably, lowering his gaze back down to his clipboard.

Opening the door, the boy was greeted by a familiar man - underneath the twigs and bits of leaves, the dirt on his face and nightgown - was that flour in his hair? The man looked just like his father. His eyes widened, because it was his _father_.

The boy snorted, "what happened?"

"I fell out of the window…" Jeremy deadpanned, his expression; bleak.

"Well that was a stupid thing to do, wasn't it?" His father gave him a glare, after giving out and exasperated sigh.

Mr Addison brushed passed his son and into the living room. The man - from the authorities, quickly stood up noticing the presence of Jeremy.

"Mr Addison…"

All he could do was stare, then grimace, sticking up his nose from the pong of the man that was covered in dirt.

"Uh, ahem, y-yes?"

"We need to talk… about your situation."

"My… My situation?" Jeremy uttered, confused.

"We've had some complaints, sir." the man looked him up and down, judgingly.

Jeremy gulped.

* * *

 **A/N: As usual, thanks for reading :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Another chapter already? Wooo!**

* * *

Chapter ten

"Cuh-c-complaints? What complaints?" Jeremy was completely bewildered, staring widely at the balding man that was standing inches away from him. "Who complained?" He cried out, lifting his arms up to his head.

Arthur didn't like the way his father was handling the situation; yes, his father couldn't handle many things, but this was a whole new level.

Breath shaking, hands sweating, face turning very white, Mr Addison was not handling it at all.

"Mr Addison, I going to have to ask you to calm yourself, sir." The man in the suit gave him a subtle look of pity.

"Y-yes, uh, hmm, who… Um, who c-complained, Mr…"

"Hawley, sir."

Running a hand through his hair, Jeremy sighed picking out a stray leaf that had stuck around one of his curls. Grimacing, he sat down. Mr Hawley did also.

"Perhaps it would be best if we spoke privately?" He eyed Arthur.

"Hmm?" Jeremy followed his gaze carefully. "Oh, uh, yes… Ahem, why don't you see if Freddie is alright, hmm?" Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes, but he obeyed his father and left the room, closing the door behind him, only to listen from the otherside.

"As I said we've had complaints…"

"Yes, yes, Buh-but what about? Who -"

"Complaints about you, sir." Jeremy inclined his head.

"I-I beg your pardon? About muh-me?"

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. What would they have complained about? Who had the audacity to do so?

"A few of them wished to remain anonymous, but I do have a couple that didn't seem to bother about privacy." A few of them… How many people had pushed him into the mud?

Jeremy nodded anxiously, waiting for Mr Hawley to reveal his betrayers. "Well, a Mrs Pickett complained about the management of the bakery, and how you had fired her for no reason and how you refused to give her a raise."

"Mrs Pickett?... Gertrude?! I didn't Fuh-f-fire her! She, she resigned…" Mr Hawley raised a brow but said nothing.

Mr Addison's breathing was beginning to pick up. Why was this happening? Why did the Lord hate him?

"Yes, well…"

Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck.

"This might come to a bit of a surprise, but… an N. Addison also, uh…"

Nathaniel? He had… He had… Jeremy couldn't believe it. His own brother? Why?

His heart sank about ten feet under him. He knew that he and his brother never really established a good relationship, but that was just utterly heart crushingly awful, even for him.

"My… my brother… did… duh-did he say why?" He cursed his voice for cracking conspicuously.

The man nodded. "A few of them, including your brother believe that… that you are unable to care for your children appropriately."

* * *

On the other side of the door, stood Arthur who was listening to _everything._ Why did his father have to be so stupid?! Why couldn't he just be normal? He was so clumsy, Arthur couldn't play sports with him because he'd always drop the ball, or trip over his shoe laces. He couldn't speak, never mind read stories! He was an embarrassment! There were so many things Arthur hated about his father, down to the way he treat them. Even when there mother was alive, Arthur had always found his father awkward to be around and had often avoided him at all costs, but now he had no choice.

No wonder people had complained about him. He would've too.

* * *

Conrad, as usual was left out of what was going on. When he had tapped Arthur on the shoulder to try and understand what was happening, his brother just shoved him away, literally. Shrugging it off, Conrad wandered up the stairs and into his sister's room.

" _Hi, Con,"_ she signed weakly. He gave her a sad smile, she looked a little healthier today, but not a lot. Her hair hanging loosely, while her fringe clung to the light layer of sweat on her forehead.

Conrad waved and took a seat at the bottom of the bed, adjusting himself so he could face her. Lucy was pale to say the least, with purple bruises that rested under her chocolate brown eyes. Conrad remembered what she was like before she got ill; she would run and play outside all day, she would help him feed and look after the animals. He would help her decorate her dolls house and they'd have pretend tea parties. But now, now it was different. The life in her eyes had drained, she smiled less, they didn't play together anymore, she never went outside. Even being outside of less than five minutes would cause a drastic change to her health.

Father did his best to look after her, always tried to make her laugh. Always making sure she had enough blankets, water and food.

He tried. But once mother died… he changed, he still looked after them, still did his best, but he wasn't _him_ anymore. He was a shell of their father, he became clumsier, more stressed and his stammer had gotten much worse. It was almost as if the light in his eyes was dimming, like a candle melting out until it's nothing but smoke. A lot could happen in two weeks, especially when someone you love had died.

Conrad shook the thought out of his head, he shouldn't be thinking of that. Wiping his nose on his sleeve like a child, he glances at Lucy. She had fallen asleep. A small smile tugged at Conrad's lips, she looked so peaceful.

* * *

Jeremy knew he wasn't exactly the best father in the world, but he tried his best, didn't he?

"I love everyone of my children!"

"That's not what I -"

"That's wuh-what you were, um, insinuating." He wiped his eyes, he had been crying from all of the stupid suggestions the bald man had been giving him. He had brought up the rat traps in the corner, but when Jeremy explained it that was just a precaution, Mr Hawley shook his head and wrote something down on his clipboard.

"I have n-n-never laid a fuh-finger on any of them!"

"Sir -"

"I-I-I f-feed them. I luh-l-look af-ter them, clothe them."

"You're not stable, sir."

"I'm stable!" He ran a shaking hand through his curls.

"Sir, a woman said she had saw you talking to a tree a few days ago. That is not something a stable person does…"

Jeremy was silent for a moment.

"That tree is my m-mother…"

"Pardon?"

"My mother… she… that's where she is buried… I…" Jeremy's eyes leaked salty tears again.

"My condolences, but there are too many complaints to just ignore. You can't be looking after these children on your own."

"I have a n-nanny…" Jeremy objected.

"But for how long? I saw what happened to that Nanny the other day, she wasn't too pleased."

"I told you what happened."

"Mr Addison, I'm going to report back to the authorities and they will decided what will happen. I will pop in from time to time to see how things are going… you need help, Mr Addison, it doesn't look good."

Mr Hawley got up from the sofa and opened the door, Arthur falling into him.

"Oh, Albert I t-told you to -"

"I'm Arthur! You say you love us, take care of us, but you can't even get my name right! I'm ten and you still don't know who is who. Mother knew, she could tell."

"Arthur please -" Mr Addison shifted uncomfortably. Why was he doing this now?

"No! You can't even look after yourself, you're pathetic and I'm ashamed to be your son. Mother was better, she loved us. It's your fault she's dead! It should have been you!"

 _ **Slap**_

Jeremy was shaking had he just… did he… Oh God.

Arthur's eyes watered, his cheek was red and beginning to bruise already. Before Jeremy could do anything to apologise, his boy had already sprinted out of the front door.

Mr Hawley jotted something down before glancing over at Mr Addison.

"I'll be back in the morning, Mr Addison… with a warrant." With that the man left and Jeremy sunk to his knees. The dark engulfing him as the door closed.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm so mean! :(**

 **Thanks for reading :) reviews are welcome.**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter eleven

Arthur never wanted to go back home again, _ever_. He hated that Nanny. He hated his siblings and most importantly, he hated his father!

He just couldn't understand how his father had let that bald man talk to him like that. And the fact his own father had slapped him too. What would their mother think? Saddened by thought of his mother, Arthur took a seat down on the dirt near an old apple tree. Usually, he would try to climb something like this, but not today. He was too depressed. He wished his mother was back. He would have done anything just to hear her say his name one more time.

"Arthur?"

Arthur almost leaped out of his skin at the sound of his name being called. It was a woman's voice, but it didn't belong to his mother.

The woman got close enough for the boy to identify; it was Madeline, the woman that worked with his father at the bakery.

The boy sighed as Maddie came and took a seat beside him, despite knowing it would get her pale blue silk gown dirty. She huffed a breath and turned to him, Arthur could smell the strawberry jam coming from her as she shifted.

"Well, aren't you going to tell me why you're out here all alone?" Arthur shrugged and picked up a small stick, then began making patterns in the dirt.

"I'm sure your father will be worried sick," Madeline mirrored him; she picked up a stick and made a few dirt twirls. She could tell he was upset and that the bruise on his face was something that she couldn't ignore. She just wanted to hug him, tell him everything would be all right. She knew that after the loss of Harriett; their mother, each one of the children found it difficult to cope. But it wasn't just the children that were struggling, Mr Addison was too.

She didn't know Harriett very well, but she had heard a lot of lovely things about her from Mr Addison. She understood that his wife had suffered just before passing, and the look she saw in Jeremy's eyes was heartbreaking. Although he was surrounded by people that loved him, he always seemed to be so alone.

* * *

He was a horrible father. He didn't deserve their love. He didn't deserve them. For about half an hour, Jeremy had drilled it into his head that he was an absolute disgrace to his family. That he didn't deserve to be a father. That he was a despicable human being.

Of course, none of this was true. But it didn't matter what anyone else thought, to him he had tarnished what little good he had left in his sad miserable life. The only thing that kept him going were his children, and he had ruined it with them.

He had been sitting in the living room for about ten minutes after Arthur left. Why had he chosen a white sofa? ' _I suppose it doesn't matter now,'_ he thought. It was already ruined anyway. A little dirt wasn't going to do much difference.

Head in hands, Mr Addison sighed. Maybe, if his wife was still alive the children would be more respectful. Maybe, if he wasn't such an incompetent idiot, he would actually be able to look after his children without the authorities snooping around.

Jeremy looked up only to almost fall off the sofa from fright. "Good heavens."

"I did knock."

"Miss… N-nanny, uh, of course you did…yes...Ahem..."

Nanny McPhee gave a grunt in response. "Little Frederick has calmed down now. He has just gone outside to play, are you all right Mr Addison?"

Jeremy peeled himself up from the floor and plonked himself back on the sofa. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't all right. He wasn't all right at all. How could it have come to this? To where the authorities dictate on what happens to _his_ children.

"I wish I could say that I am… but… ugh, I've r-ruined it with my children, the authorities are guh-going to… to…" He broke off into a sob. "I'm a t-terrible father!" Covering his face with his hands, he let out a whimper.

Nanny McPhee frowned. The poor man was in a state of shivers.

The door to the living room creaked open, a tuft of dark chocolate hair peeked through the opening. Conrad gave a small wave to Nanny McPhee, who then acknowledged him with a curt nod.

"Oh, what am I going to do?" Jeremy huffed a breath, throwing his hands up, noticing his son standing by the door.

"Conrad…" Mr Addison quickly wiped his red rimmed eyes and greeted his son. Though, the smile that he gave was forced and looked more like a grimace.

The young boy began to sign, but it wasn't to his father. Jeremy was confused, even when his son knew he couldn't understand, he would still try to sign to him… so why was he signing to the nanny? Wait… the nanny could sign?

He watched as they made conversion, her hands a lot more fluent than his would ever be. His son was happy, he could communicate with someone. Jeremy just wished it was him smiling at.

Conrad nodded before leaving the living room. Nanny McPhee took a seat on the arm chair.

Mr Addison gave her a sheepish look, contemplating whether or not to make a fool of himself for asking - "Wh… um… what did he s-say?" The blush in his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by the nanny.

"He asked if everything was alright. I told him it was nothing for him to worry about." Mr Addison gave a slow nod. "He's gone outside with Frederick to help gather your clothes from the compost heap."

Jeremy chuckled despite the situation.

"Conrad is a good child, Mr Addison."

"He is… he's had to gr-grow up fast… with Lucy and…" He broke off into a sob again.

Nanny McPhee gave a small grunt in agreement. She could tell that Conrad had a lot of potential, that he was the most mature out if the rest of the children. But there was something that made her think that he needed her just as much as the others did. He needed a friend. This family needed a nanny. This family needed her.

* * *

Nathaniel Addison, a man of impeccable taste, sauntered his way down the cobbled dust ridden road. Pisteine suit, shined shoes and a hat taller than the eiffel tower atop his combed, dirt brown hair. He stuck his nose up as he walked passed the lower class, he didn't care for the paupers of society. They were not of his concern.

Mary; his maid, had cancelled his meetings, which meant he had the time to make his way down to the funeral parlour. The little spat with his brother didn't go down as well as he had thought. He was sure that by now the authorities had already told him that he had complained… he thought it to be in his best interests. He was helping his brother, really. Without the snotty brats to look after, Jeremy would have nothing to worry about.

If only things had turned out differently. He could only imagine.

The parlour smelled like death. That was the only way he could describe it. A man with dirty blonde hair, no older than twenty-five stood by one of the empty coffins. Nathaniel knew the boy's father; Cedric Brown, and this he presumed was Simon.

"Ahem…" The elder man cleared his throat to gather the attention of the young Brown.

Simon jolted at the sudden noise. The parlour had been quiet since noon, and he hadn't been expecting anyone. His father was having a long deserved break in the back of the funeral home.

"How can I help you, sir?" Simon asked, placing the small hammer and a handful of nails down by the coffin.

The man he was talking to had a resemblance to Mr Jeremy Addison, though this man was taller, not ginger and had a classy look about him. Simon couldn't recall Mr Addison saying that he had a brother, but the man never really uttered much about anything, really. The poor man.

"I'd like to see my sister in-law, if you will. Hettie Addison."

His assumptions were correct. Though, this man seemed so much more confident, so much more assertive. There was this look in his eyes that Simon didn't like. But he couldn't put his finger on what it might have been.

Simon liked Jeremy. The man was kind hearted, always put his children first no matter the situation… he made the best jam tarts. He had soft green eyes that were a screen to his soul.

But this man… this other Addison didn't have that. His eyes weren't soft, or kind. They were dark, they were empty orbs.

Simon coughed and told him to follow him behind the curtain. Nathaniel followed and then asked for privacy, to which Simon reluctantly agreed.

Nathaniel gazed down, the woman on the slab was his dead sister in-law. If he didn't know she was dead, he could have mistaken her for being asleep. She was still as pretty dead as she was alive. Blonde flowing locks of waving curls. What he would give to see those bright blue eyes once more.

"It could have been so much different, Hettie." He took her limp hand in his. "Me and you…" Her palm is stone cold, lifeless.

"We could have… I could have made you so happy…" He raised her hand to his lips and placed a small kiss on her knuckles. "You wouldn't of had to worry about anything… anyone. If only you had just said yes." Nathaniel wiped his cheek.

"But you chose him. The town's fool…"

His breath faltered. "I loved you, Hettie… I love you and breaks my heart that I could never… that I could never tell you…"

Simon never saw the other Mr Addison leave. One minute he was there and the next, the curtain flapped open and he was gone.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Thanks for reading :) hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

 **sailorsenshi13 - Hopefully everything will turn out with the Addison's, hehe. I'm sure Nanny McPhee will work her magic :) Thank you for your review :)**

 **Guest - Thanks for your review, and I hope you enjoyed the update :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Ahhhh, I am sooooo sorry for the wait of this chapter! Oh, my goodness gosh! I cannot apologize enough - I promise I am not abandoning this story, it's just life has been a little tough at the moment :/**

 **Also, I apologize for how short the chapter is… sorry.**

 **Just another little note - I am planning to rewrite this at some point. I have read over it and there are a lot of mistakes *covers face and shakes head* Basically, it's awful. So, hopefully, editing will not only make the story better, but I think it will be easier for me to figure out where I am going with the story :)**

 **Anyyyyywaaayyy, ON TO THE STORY!**

* * *

Chapter twelve

Madeline could tell just by looking at the young boy next to her, that he wasn't going to go back home on his own. The dried tears and bruises that plagued his cheeks, were clear enough signs as to why.

She just couldn't believe that Mr Addison could have done such a thing. Surely, he hadn't done it on purpose, had he? Even so, why had it happened in the first place? Yes, Madeline knew that the poor man was stressed, but she knew him, and she knew that he loved his children more than himself. So why on earth had Arthur's cheek turned a deep sickly purple?

Madeline didn't know what to think. Jeremy Addison, the clumsy, sweet and innocent baker of the village, hurt his own children. Just the thought of it was absurd. Yet, it was the only explanation she could think of. And the young woman couldn't help the envelope of dread slip into her stomach. She took a small glance at the boy next to her, pity seemed to tighten around her heart.

Arthur would need to get home to get some ice on his cheek to stop the swelling, and Madeline would make sure he got home safely, even if it meant confronting the clumsy baker she was so fond of.

* * *

An hour had passed since the authorities had left the Addison household. Jeremy was still a nervous, tattered wreck. The twigs in his hair seemed to have bloomed due to his stresses. Sweaty palms followed by wiping them onto his compost covered nightgown only contributed to the mess of his appearance.

Nanny McPhee had gone out to get some groceries with Frederick and Conrad after they had cleaned up his clothes from the compost heap. She said it would be best to get them out rather than cooped up in the house. She also said that Mr Addison just needed some time to think. And right now, he was thinking a lot of ' _thinks'._

He had thought about a lot of things in the short time he had been alone in the living room. He had thought about the authorities and their motives, his brother who had betrayed him, his wife and the funeral he still needed to arrange, and most of all, he had thought about his children.

To say the least, Jeremy couldn't think of anything else. He was supposed to look after, love and care for his children. And now, all of that has been sent down stream. Ruined. His life and his children's lives all ruined. The older children would get sent to the workhouse, Mr Addison would lose the house and be sent out onto the streets, goodness knows what would happen to Lucy and little Freddie.

Jeremy had promised his wife that he would make sure nothing would happen to their children. That promise had been getting harder and harder to keep as everyday without her passed. The last thing he wanted was his children to be taken away from him, but for him to be the reason for it, he felt repulsed at himself. He felt like a chicken trying to protect their young while being surrounded by foxes with nowhere to escape. He was trapped, he was losing.

Why did his wife have to leave so soon? Mr Addison sighed, maybe Arthur was right, maybe everything would have taken a better turn if it were him laying on the slab in the funeral parlour. A sob escaped Jeremy's throat, unable to keep himself contained, breaking down once again. Head in hands, shoulders bobbing, and tears streaming from his eyes he let out a shaky breath. Pushing his hands through his hair, he shook his head and sucked in a breath. He was being foolish, he couldn't think like that. Jeremy had to stay strong, not only for himself but the children too. He may have lost his chance to prove the authorities wrong, but Mr Addison wasn't going to let them have more reason for them to take his children.

* * *

"Nanny McPhee?" Frederick glanced up at the woman, who had been holding his hand the entire way into town.

"Yes, Frederick?" The nanny inclined her head toward the small child, the movement caught the attention of Conrad, who tilted his head to the side.

"You don't have to hold my hand. I am a big boy and don't need a nanny, really." The small boy's big eyes looked up, only just covered by curly auburn locks. His chubby cheeks squished up as he smiled innocently.

"I know you are, but it's better to be safe. We don't want you running off, do we?" Freddie's smile dissolved from his face and formed into a pout as he slumped his tiny shoulders. Nanny McPhee let a out a small grunt in response to the child's manner. Conrad just rolled his eyes at his brother's pouty-face and carried on walking beside the nanny he had started to grow fond of.

They had already been to a few of the stalls in the market. Conrad had the responsibility of carrying the eggs, he knew they wouldn't amount to the ones Arthur had wasted, but it was a start. He knew his father was in the middle of a mental breakdown, even though the nanny had explained that it was nothing to worry about. He knew. Conrad knew his father was going through something, but he wasn't quite sure what. Obviously, the authorities had been but because no one had really informed him of what was going on, Conrad didn't really know what to think of it all.

The colour seemed drain from the nine year old's face once he looked up. His eyes taking in the view of shiny shoes, pristine suit and a top hat that seemed to bury the head of the person that wore it. Conrad gulped, his palms became sweaty causing him to lose grip of the basket that held the eggs.

"Um, excuse me? Who on earth are you, and what are you doing with my brother's children?"

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Cliffhanger… Kinda. Ahhh.**

 **Guest - Thank you for your review! :) I am happy you like the story, it means a lot. Hopefully there will be more updates/chapters to come.**

 **Minuilin - Thank you so much for your review! I am so glad you think so :) You are every welcome, hope you enjoyed the update! :)**

 **Sailorenshi13 - Thank you for your review! Nanny McPhee pretty much knows everything, and I thought it would be a nice touch for her to be able to interact with Conrad on a more personal level :)**


End file.
